


#NotDead

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Business AU, M/M, implied Mycroft Holmes / Greg Lestrade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 20:48:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4114495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You have my number, John. Some people will be at your house around 3 tomorrow to help you move. I suggest you get home and start packing." He says pushing John out the door before he has time to question anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#NotDead

**Author's Note:**

> another thing nerdgul (on tumblr) wrote that i edited because why not

[Insert really terrifying dream sequence]

John woke up breathing heavy, a little scared, adrenaline still running through his veins. He looked around his bedroom for a moment, only to fall back onto the bed with a 'thump' quickly realizing it was all merely a dream.

John eventually let out a sigh. Sitting up and throwing his legs over the side of the bed, he slipped on his bedroom shoes and turning of his alarm that was mere minutes away from going of anyway. He head downstairs for his morning coffee. He glances at the morning paper with a wordless grunt. It's all death and catastrophe, of course. He glances at the obituary, just in case his sister's gotten herself killed in some drunken mishap when she didn't come home last night. He was relieved to know she’s at least not dead, and surprised to see a name he recognizes. Sherlock Holmes, the man who works in the cubicle in front of his. John's never really spoke to the man other than to exchange your average office chit-chat ('good morning', 'keep up the good work', etc.) John never got to know him, but he knew enough to know to stay away. He had a pretty bad reputation at the office. Often showing up in the middle of the afternoon wearing the same clothes he'd worn the previous day. Being incredibly rude to whoever tried to speak to him. Using the work computer for anything other than work. John remembered on more than a few occasions looking over to the other man’s cubicle to see some… questionable content on the screen. And then he will suddenly leaving whenever he chose without telling the boss. Honestly, John is surprised he wasn't fired. John was nearly positive the man was a drug addict, the way his eyes sometimes seemed glassed over. Or, how he'd be jittery and scratch at his arms in meetings. Though, John was no doctor so that was only speculation.  
He goes back to his coffee, and vaguely wondered about how the rest of the office was going to take the news. Namely, Molly Hooper, the office's secretary. She worked at the front desk and always makes sure to greet Sherlock with a smile, sometimes ignoring everyone else just to attempt to speak with him. She made it more than painfully obvious that she fancied the man. She will likely be devastated to know that the man of her unrequited affections is dead. John shakes his head a bit, the poor girl would've been hurt anyway. 

John got ready quickly and made his way to the bus stop. He tried to enjoy the commute to his work by looking around, people watch. He looked out at the city lights in the dawn mist as he rode in the heavy traffic of London. He looked at the sky, it was probably going to rain today. He left his umbrella at home. Typical.  
When he got to work Molly wasn't at the front desk. John felt sorry for the girl, she’d likley already heard the news. But he didn't do anything, not much he could do anyway. He went to his cubicle and saw a few flowers on the desk in the now empty one in front of his. He got to work as everyone else, feeling the gloom perpetually stuck floating in the air only thickened by the recent death of a co-worker. It almost made him want to laugh. Most people here hated the man, yet now that he's gone everyone’s silent, as if they actually knew and cared for him. 

John sat down and booted up his computer, only for the light of the screen to be partially blocked by a sticky note that he himself had not put there. "221 B. Baker Street. Whenever convenient. Now." With “Whenever convenient” crudely scratched out. John was confused, but assumed his boss had put it there. Well, in retrospect, his boss probably didn't put it there. But the note was simply too mysterious to pass up and he'd take just about any reason to get out of this place. Ignoring his work he got up immediately, and simply left. He took a taxi instead of driving. Both not wanting to deal with traffic again, and because he didn't entirely know how to get there. It had started lightly raining at some point while he was inside. The weather only got worse as he got into the cab. By the time he'd arrived at 221 B Baker Street it was downright pouring. He was surprised to see it was just a normal flat. This only picked his curiosity further as he went up to knock on the door. 

He knocked on the door. A nice looking elderly lady answered, "Hello?" She asks. "Uh..." It was then that John realized that he had no idea what to do now. He awkwardly shifted trying to think of a way to explain what exactly brought him here. He vaguely wondered why he himself was here without so much as a question. For all he knew this could be some random address. Maybe Greg had put that note on his computer as some weird practical joke.

John was about to say something but the nice elderly lady interrupted his thoughts. "Oh! You must be here for Sherlock! Come on in then, love. Get out of the rain." Sherlock? "Sherlock?" John's looks to the woman, a look of confusion on his face. "Yes, dear, he's right up these stairs here." She began leading him up the narrow staircase.  
As she opened the door John was shocked. His supposedly dead co-worker was most definitely not dead. In fact, he was lying on the couch right in front of his very eyes. "Thank you Ms. Hudson," Sherlock spoke not even looking up, "Tea would be nice, as well."

"I'm not your housekeeper, dear." She said as she turned to the flat's kitchen to make them some tea. There was a moment of silence where John was utterly confused. Sherlock, of course continued laying on the couch. "Sherlock?" John asks. "Yes, John?" Sherlock finally looks up at him, if now only noticing him. "What’s going on?" John exclaims.  
Sherlock leapt from the couch in one fluid graceful and dramatic gesture and took a few steps, standing directly in front of John. "I am in need of your assistance." John blinks, "My assistance? We've barely even spoke, for God's sake! You're supposed to be dead and you need my assistance? Bloody hell, Sherlock, what could you possibly need from me?" He looks angrily at the taller man. "I need you to move in with me." Sherlock states, simply. "What the-" John is interrupted by Ms. Hudson. "I've got tea." She announces as she walks back into the room.

"Ah, yes, thank you." Sherlock offers a tight smile as he sits the tea on the table. She looks back up to the two before focusing on John. "So," She speaks. "What do you think then? There's a second bedroom upstairs there. If you'll be needing two, that is." She smiles. John twitches only slightly. "Of course we'd be needing two." Why the hell wouldn‘t they be needing two bedrooms. "So you agree? Good, then. Sherlock continues his way to the kitchen to get some tea. "Wait!" John walks behind him. "I just mean, I'm not-" John‘s sentence is cut short. "It's okay, love. We've got all sorts ‘round here. The woman next door's got married ones." John's eyes widen "No, that’s-" Ms. Hudson simply pats John on the shoulder smiling as she leaves the room. Sherlock was now back on the couch, sitting this time, sipping his tea. When did the man move back across the room? John crosses the room sitting on the chair, tea forgotten. 

"What is the nonsense about?" John declares. "I told you. I need a flat-mate. Do listen, John." Sherlock rolls his eyes. Before john could protest Sherlock continued "may I see your phone?" ‘

John hands him his phone without a second thought. "Okay, but if you need a flat-mate so bad then why not post an ad like a normal human being, instead of leaving some cryptic note on your co-worker's computer?" John looks pointedly at the other man. 

"As I said before, I'm in hiding, John. Posting an ad for a flat-mate when I am supposed to be dead would not help my case." Sherlock explains as he swipes his fingers over the phone's screen. "Alright, but why me? I mean, just get a frie-" Sherlock cuts him off. "Too suspicious. I need someone who I've never had an extended interaction with. As well as someone who has a reason to suddenly move. Also someone reasonable whom I can trust, obviously. You're a diligent worker. You get everything done on time. Responsible. You've also been looking for a new place to live for a few weeks now." He says not even looking up from the phone.

John's eyes widen. "How did you know that?" "You're always early for work, and often stay late with the excuse of finishing your work. You clearly don't want to go home. Likely due to your current flat-mate. Though you're quiet about it. So family. Probably the alcoholic brother who gave you your phone... also your internet history shows searches for available places. Shame John, you really shouldn't use your work computer for personal matters." Giving a sly smile then pressing one last button, he hands the phone back to John. 

"You have my number, John. Some people will be at your house around 3 tomorrow to help you move. I suggest you get home and start packing." He says pushing John out the door before he has time to question anything.


End file.
